


silence and sound

by cathedralhearts



Series: spiritus [2]
Category: Hockey RPF
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Bullying, Homesickness, M/M, Soul Bond
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-08-17
Updated: 2014-08-17
Packaged: 2018-02-13 13:45:23
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 9,860
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2152890
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cathedralhearts/pseuds/cathedralhearts
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sidney Crosby is twelve when he soul bonds.</p>
            </blockquote>





	silence and sound

**Author's Note:**

  * For [o_contrary](https://archiveofourown.org/users/o_contrary/gifts).



> I’d written a few snippets from Sidney’s POV while I was writing the main fic, and felt bad they were going to languish in the wasteland that is my gdocs. So, here they are, cleaned up and posted. I don’t know the proper term; key events from an alternative viewpoint? It was finished about four months ago but I’ve been really quite hesitant about posting because I wasn't sure about a lot of it. I wanted to show Sidney’s side and how he dealt with the bond and other things Geno didn’t know about and I didn’t want to come back to this verse just yet, but I've hit a massive wall with my big bang and rarepairs stuff so this got finished instead. 
> 
> This is dedicated to o_contrary, who didn’t expect nor deserve the avalanche of feels that came at her over gchat when we first started talking. She also put forth a fantastic effort to curb my tense abuse while being all, “You and your schmoop are out of control right now but I am biased and I love it.” 
> 
> I said ‘consider the usual warnings for soulbond’ for the first instalment, and that’s still relevant here. There’s a scene where a character decides to seek gratification because his bondmate is having sex and it leaks across the bond, and there's several instances with a neglectful bond psychiatrist. Other specific warnings for an accidental overdose and a character being bullied and threatened with violence.

\--

_twelve._

“You’ve been invited to a camp in Finland,” his dad says over dinner one night.

It’s meatloaf, and Taylor has more of it smeared on her face and clothes than in her mouth. There’s eight years between them; she’s alright as a little sister, what Sidney gets to see of her. He still loves her with everything he’s got.

“Okay,” Sidney says, jabbing at a meaty lump and dipping it in gravy.

“Nanna and Gramps are going to look after Taylor while we go. That’ll be fun, baby. You can make those cupcakes with Nanna again, like last time,” his mom says. Taylor’s face screws up and Sidney knows there’s a tantrum coming. She hates it when they all go places for his hockey stuff without her. He’d hate it too, if he wasn’t trying his hardest to be prepared for it -- for being the one who always has to leave, and those he leaves behind.

*

Finland is much of the same as Canada, and the people speak English so it doesn’t bother him too much. They’ve got the kids staying in dorms, their families put up in a nearby hotel, to foster “chemistry”. There’s almost a hundred kids at the camp from all over the world, and a fair percentage of them are Canadians.

Sidney recognises a few guys from camps he’s been to; a red-haired menace, a blonde kid who’s shooting pucks at the net while a boy with a dark eyes leans on his stick and barks comments that go largely ignored… it’s all the same.

The coaches split them into teams and Sidney has a C slapped on his chest before the puck drops. He’s captained most teams he’s ever been on. It’s who he is, it’s what he wants, and the burden of the letter isn’t something he thinks he’ll ever get tired of. The blonde kid from before is on his wing, and Sidney spots a few guys he knows sitting on the bench. They wave at him and he waves back, turning around to watch the ref skate towards him with the puck.

Sidney’s bundled up in his gear, thermals on underneath and his nose is bright red, breathing steady as he waits. It’s weird -- it feels like the air has completely dropped away since he stepped onto the rink. They’re on an outdoor one for this game, and the wind had been blowing strong and irritating in everyone’s eyes before.

Sidney focuses on his breathing, and on waiting for the drop. The center going up against him is goofing off with his buddies. Bursts of laughter make their way across the ice, nestled between something that sounds European, his jersey fluttering against his arm movements, the bright red _eleven_ searing itself into Sidney’s retinas. He thinks the guy’s speaking Finnish, or maybe somehing else. Sidney’s not great at being able to tell different languages apart. Eleven finally skates over when the ref is a few meters away, done with his jokes.

His eyes are the first thing Sidney locks onto. Brown, warm and kind, they’re still filled with laughter. He feels a stirring somewhere deep inside, envious of the ease they move between each other with. Sidney’s a little too quiet, a little too dedicated for most guys his age to be okay with. He made his peace a long time ago. Hockey’s always going to come first -- even before bonding. He’s twelve, anyway, what does he care about bonding?

The brown eyes narrow in on the puck as they move closer to the dot, going sharp and intent. He hunches down over his stick, getting ready and mirroring Sidney’s pose.

Sidney wins the faceoff and streaks down the ice, the goalie between the sticks his only aim. He shoots a saucer across to the blonde kid, Eighty-Eight, watching as he dekes easily around one of the others. Sidney can see Eleven coming straight for him and he rushes to intercept, getting caught up in a board battle to clear the puck toward Eighty-Eight, chewing furiously on his mouthguard.

Sidney’s glove comes off and he swears under his breath, wondering if he should stop and pick it up or keep going. The puck gets sent flying out of the game and he sighs as the ref blows the whistle, and bends down to get it. Except, Eleven is leaning down as well, his glove shoved under his other arm.

His bare finger brushes against Sidney’s wrist, pale and delicate in the Helsinki sunlight. Sidney’s eyes snap up, locking with Eleven’s as an overwhelming, swelling feeling builds.

He knows what this is.

He and everyone else on the planet has spent hours in bond class listening to the signs -- how to tell when it’s coming and whether you have a choice, or whether it’s something that’s just going to happen. This doesn’t feel like there’s a choice to be made. What it does feel like is every emotion he’s ever had in his entire life building into an unstoppable pressure inside his chest and head, threatening to overtake him completely. It feels like a train coming towards him and he’s frozen on the tracks, unable to move or think or breathe.

 _Oh God, no,_ Sidney gasps as the pressure bursts and blinds him with pain. The refs and half the team are skating over to them to see what’s going on.

Nothing comes at him, until it does. Until a wave of foreign misery crests and threatens to swallow him whole as he falls backwards. One of the guys he knows, Richards, crouches down next to him, barking in his face, “Are you okay? What’s going on?”

The friend of his -- of his _bondmate_ \-- looks over at them. He’s with Eleven, who is doubled over in pain and moaning something Sidney can’t quite hear, and says it.

“Bond.”

Universal in any language.

 

Sidney Patrick Crosby is twelve when he goes to Helsinki for an invitational camp.

He was born on August 7th, 1987 in Cole Harbour, Nova Scotia. His parents moved to Halifax not long after his younger sister Taylor was born.

His favourite things are hockey, peanut butter and jelly sandwiches, Superman and M&Ms.

He doesn’t like bullies, rudeness, romance movies, his grandpa’s cigarillos or pad rash.

His name is Sidney Crosby and he just bonded to a Russian teenager named Evgeni Malkin.

 

* * *

 

_(almost) thirteen._

Sidney’s in the last place he ever thought he’d be in for the summer. Southern Russia.

The weather is oppressive and he’s lying on Geno’s bed, only dressed in his boxers and a sheen of sweat. The air conditioning unit broke yesterday and some guy is poking around in the ceiling to fix it; Geno’s mom knows him and somehow convinced him to stay until it’s done.

Foma and Galya, Geno’s cousins, are in the showers trying to seek relief in the cold spray. Sidney’s already had two today -- his fingertips are still pruney from the last one. Denis yawns loudly from where he’s lying on Geno’s floor, cooling himself with an old comic. There’s a fan in the ceiling and they’ve turned it on high, but it just pushes the hot air around.

 _So hot,_ Geno moans from next to him. It echoes across the bond, lazy between them from the weather and their exhaustion.

Geno’s bed is big enough for them both to fit comfortably, although Geno’s a fucking furnace and Sidney would rather be on the floor. As a result, he’s hardly in the mood for anything. He doesn’t want to move, though, not even when Geno’s ankle crosses with his, the overheated skin singing at the contact. The bond is stupid and needy sometimes.

 _No shit,_ he thinks back. Geno laughs out loud, startling Denis from his stupor.

“No bond talking. It’s weird,” he grunts at them in Russian. Sidney looks at Geno, who smirks.

“You’re weird,” Geno chirps back. Sidney’s learning Russian, slowly, but it seems to be going faster with their bond open, Geno understanding what’s going on in real time helps him to match the words with their meanings.

He imagines it must be strange, when they talk to each other over the bond, just looking stupidly at each other or randomly doing things to help the other. He made Geno a sandwich the other day, even though Geno was outside playing with the neighbour’s dog while Sidney tested his Russian out on Mrs. Malkina as she cooked. Sidney just knew Geno was hungry. What was he supposed to do, ignore the hunger pains? Mrs. Malkina had asked what he was doing, and he’d explained that Geno wanted a sandwich so he was going to make one. She’d gotten that look on her face, the one all adults got when Sidney or Geno did something for each other without talking out loud about it. Sidney hated that look. It held expectation and longing, but none of them had any idea what they were going through, or how hard it was.

Denis says something about Sidney’s birthday before Mrs. Malkina yells for him from the other room. Geno looks -- and feels -- troubled, but doesn’t say anything until Denis leaves. Geno’s party is tomorrow, and Sidney’s been working with his family to get everything organised. He likes being involved in things, especially helping Mrs. Malkina cook up a storm.

 _I forgot your birthday falls in the summer as well,_ Geno says.

Sidney thinks of his sister and of birthdays past, and feels a little depressed. It’s nothing compared to what Geno goes through. What Sidney feels him go through, so he shrugs.

 _It’s okay_ , he says, still fanning at his shorts. He’ll probably sweat his body weight out by the time they go back to Halifax. _I’m your bondmate, and you gave up a lot to come live in Canada. I can handle missing a birthday._

Geno doesn’t feel convinced, and his face doesn’t look it either, but Denis comes back in and throws up a prayer. All of a sudden, the house rattles and a blast of cold, refrigerated air comes down from the vent. They all burst into cheers as Denis dances around the room, laughing. Sidney doesn’t move his ankle, and neither does Geno.

 

* * *

 

_thirteen._

Sidney’s sitting in the bond counselor’s office at school, his left leg jiggling. He really hates the meetings. Dr. Paulson is the one who gives out their suppressants, and he’s the one who reports to the Bond Authority about their ‘development’, so it’s not like Sidney can even avoid him. Geno only has to check in with the team doctors once a week, and even then it’s rare they ask questions. Sidney hates being this young.

“So, Sidney, how are you feeling today?” Dr. Paulson starts, crossing one leg over the other. He’s wearing wingtips. Sidney hates him for it.

“I’m fine,” he says through gritted teeth. _Liar,_ he envisions Geno hissing at him over the bond.

“Having headaches still?”

“Yes,” Sidney admits, because he had to take a day off school earlier in the week because the migraine was so bad. “Can I get stronger suppressants? I don’t think these are working right.”

Dr. Paulson shakes his head.

“The suppressants are supposed to cancel out the ill effects of the bond, but they have adverse side effects. No suppressants are perfect, because it’s medicine trying to work against something inherent in your human biology. You’re taking the best suppressants there are for your age and bond level, it’ll just take some getting used to.”

“I know it’s going to suck, and I’m dealing with it. I just--”

“How’s Geno doing in Kentville?” Dr. Paulson cuts him off. Sidney digs his fingers into his thighs. _Hate you, hate you, hate you._

“I haven’t spoken to him.”

“Why not?”

“I’ve been busy. He’ll call me when he wants to talk.”

“Sidney, you know that’s not how it works. It’s important for bonded couples to communicate.”

“We’re not a couple,” Sidney snaps. Dr. Paulson raises his eyebrows.

That word… that word edges too closely to the kinds of emotions Sidney doesn’t want to admit to himself, let alone the asshole who has his pills, the pills that make him sick but keep the other, more horrific alternative at bay.

“I only meant as in a pair, Sidney. Your bondmate. Has something happened? Did Geno do something to you before he left?”

Sidney feels his stomach turn at the look on Dr. Paulson’s face.

“No! Of course he didn’t do anything, he’s fine. We’re fine.”

Dr. Paulson narrows his eyes, but nods. “Is he still having trouble adjusting to life in Canada and the bond?”

Sidney pauses for a moment, unsure of how much he wants to say -- of how much Geno would want him to admit. They’ve had private sessions and joint sessions, but Geno’s homesickness is never brought up in the joint sessions.

“I don’t think so,” Sidney says, to be safe.

“It’s important to give Geno space, Sidney. Working on keeping your independence and not pressuring the bond when he’s still delicate is _important_.”

Sidney feels like utter shit and digs the toes of his sneakers into the linoleum.

“I know, and I’m trying. Our shielding is getting better, we practise all the time. I just-- I have class, Dr. Paulson, can we go faster? I’ve missed enough,” Sidney says.

Dr. Paulson sighs.

“I want you to come back later this week, Sidney. We’re not done here.”

“Anything,” he says, and Dr. Paulson signs off on his slip and he escapes into the corridor.

The fact he got brushed off like that, as if his concerns about the suppressants were nothing… he doesn’t know how much longer he can do this. He just hopes Geno isn’t going through the same thing, hopes his dumb brain is the only one suffering.

 _Karma,_ a part of his mind sneers as he hurries along to English Lit, _for being stupid enough to like your bondmate more than you should._

 

*

 

It’s been a month since Geno left to play in Kentville, and Sidney wakes up with the beginnings of a migraine.

The suppressants are crap, and he curses for the fiftieth time that week. They feel like they don’t reach far enough inside him, don’t blanket enough of the bond, with painful edges poking out from the muffled fuzziness they provided. He’s trying his hardest to push through.

He tried to explain to Dr. Paulson how it feels when Geno isn’t within touching distance in one of their earliest sessions together. The physical and mental pain, the angst that tugs at his heart. Talking about it doesn’t make it any better, though. It doesn’t make it any less shitty.

They’re a tier three bond, which is strong for children their age, and Sidney has a feeling that Dr. Paulson thought the Authority were lying and gave them weaker suppressants or something. His hockey is suffering; it’s been four games since he put up points, and his parents keep having hissed arguments about calling Geno when Sidney’s too sick to get out of bed. He never lets them, though. He can do this. _He can do this._

He stares at the pills on the kitchen table, wonders if two would do the job that one is failing to do. He’s -- he needs to be strong for Geno, this is their future.

So, he takes two. Two works better than one, that’s how it goes. Humans bond in pairs, the best hockey players have a guy that’s partly responsible for their amazing skill and technique --Superman has Lois Lane. It’s _logic_.

He doesn’t even make it to lunch, collapsing in his French class.

*

When he wakes up, Geno’s at his side and he’s somewhere cold and sterile, lying on a comfortable bed. Maybe this is limbo and he’s dead. The thought makes him sad for Geno, though. He’s heard stories of what it’s like if your bondmate dies before you -- the kind of aching, yawning void that opens inside you, unable to be closed or numbed by anything.

“Geno?” he asks, his throat feeling like a cheese grater has scraped down it.

“Yeah, it’s me,” Geno says. Sidney’s head feels the wrong kind of blurry and numb, a thousand times worse than the suppressants make them feel. Everything aches.

“Why can’t I hear you?”

Geno laces their fingers together and squeezes. His lips are chapped, and Sidney makes a note to find the Vaseline when he goes home. Geno always forgets his.

“I’m still suppress, will take a few hours to end.”

As the memories trickle back, he’s humiliated with what happened. He can’t imagine what his parents are going to say when they arrive, and he starts to feel his eyes prickle with embarrassment. He’s such a fucking failure.

Geno murmurs sadly at him instead, makes Sidney promise not to suffer alone anymore as he climbs into bed, his nose pressing against the back of Sidney’s neck. It’s not as good as when Geno’s nestled inside his head, but the physical makes up for that lack in his mind. He focuses on the rise and fall of their chests as they sync up. It’s a little like breaking the surface after spending so long underneath, barely treading water, fingertips skimming the breach.

His dad comes in and sits in Geno’s chair and opens a newspaper, seemingly uncaring about his son in bed with another boy, wrapped up in completely his arms. He was the one Sidney was worried about most when he bonded, but Geno seems to have passed whatever tests Troy Crosby had set and accepts him as his own.

Geno falls asleep, exhausted from the travel, his arms lax around Sidney and his breathing steady at his back. Sidney dozes in silence until his mom arrives, tear stained and frantic. Sidney lets her kiss him, lets Taylor squeeze his hand and lets himself love. Quietly, because Geno’s still way too broken from having to leave Russia, but he lets himself love.

Lets himself think, _maybe one day._

 

* * *

 

_fourteen._

Sidney’s so pissed off. It’s not often he gets this angry, but after everything they’ve been through -- after all of it, he gets drafted by a different team in the MHL and Geno’s talking like they should be split up again. Like it’d be _okay_.

The idea fills him with the kind of fear he hasn’t experienced for a long time; a slow dread that starts in his stomach and radiates outwards. Geno’s shut him out, his mind a brick wall and that makes it worse, worse enough that Sidney keeps pushing, keeps trying to force his way through. Geno won’t budge. His fear grows.

Dinner is uncomfortable; Geno opens up just enough so they can start fighting over their bond, and Sidney’s hands are shaking so much he can barely hold his knife and fork. His mom keeps trying to coax them both into conversation, but it’s obvious neither of them are invested because they’re too busy screaming at each other.

The phone rings and Geno takes it. Sidney can tell by the look on his face, by the stunned disbelief that fills the bond with static, that it’s something bad. When Geno tells them he’s been traded to Truro, Sidney doesn’t know what to say.

He wasn’t aware that the Bond Authority meddled so closely with bonded athletes. He’s never been able to find any history or legality about it in the books he’s managed to get his hands on, and he doesn’t understand why it’s happening with them.

Taylor’s talking to Geno, and Sidney’s not paying attention but he doesn’t butt in either. Instead, he can feel the static slowly being displaced by the sunny warmth he associates between Geno and his sister. He leaves them be and heads into the kitchen to do Geno’s chores as Taylor pulls Geno in to watch a game with his dad.

“You don’t need to tiptoe around him so much,” his mom says as they clean, listening to Taylor’s shrieks and Geno’s rants in Russian whenever a goal goes wide or a puck meets pad.

“I’m not,” Sidney says, petulant. His mom sighs, squeezing his shoulder as she moves past him to reach a bowl on the cabinet.

“You’re his bondmate, Sidney, and he could never hate you. He’s scared and he feels alone, but he’s got you and you’ve got him, for the rest of your lives. You’re a burden for each other, of course… but you’re not alone in that. It’s 50/50.”

Sidney falls silent as he wipes the plates clean, thinking. His mom and dad aren’t bonded. In fact, most of the people in his family aren’t, except one of his mom’s relatives who bonded to her friend when they were eighteen. He’s never spoken to her. Her name is Megan and she was working for some firm in Boston, last he’d heard his mom say. Most of the family don’t like to talk about her -- one of the unluckier cases in bonding gone wrong. Nobody’s ever said what happened, but her bond isn’t a nice one, Sidney knows that much. It’s not one to glowingly brag about to people at bridge about, like many do. Like his mom does.

“Mom, can I have Megan’s number?” he asks, putting the last plate away.

“Megan… your cousin Megan?” she asks, looking surprised. Sidney nods.

“I want to talk to her. I probably should’ve talked to her a while ago…” he says. She disappears and comes back with a phone number scribbled on a piece of paper.

“She works a lot, so she might not be home.”

He shrugs and heads upstairs to his room with the cordless, shutting the door behind him. He dials with unsteady fingers and waits. Megan answers on the fourth ring.

“Hello, Megan speaking,” she says, and Sidney’s breath catches in his throat. It takes a few _hellos?_ from her before he can get anything out.

“Megan, it’s uh… Sidney, Sidney Crosby. I’m Trina Forbes’...uhm, I mean, I’m your cousin,” he says.

“Oh. Hi, Sidney. I wondered when you’d call,” she says. He hears a door shut in the background and sheets rustling.

“You did?” he asks, kind of surprised by it.

“Yeah, I did. I heard you bonded a couple of years back in Europe or something? Your mom spoke to my mom. She was her first call, apparently.” She sounds a little bitter, and Sidney can only imagine.

“What’s your bond like? I’ve heard it’s… hard,” he blurts out. She takes a beat or two to answer.

“It is hard, I’m not gonna lie,” she finally says.

“I know it’s hard. I’m living it. I’m _fourteen_.”

Megan heaves a sigh. “I bonded to my best friend in high school. We were seniors, her birthday is three days before mine. I thought she just… I thought we liked each other the same, y’know? Like sisters, besties forever. When the bond hit, I knew I was a fucking moron. She loves me, yeah, but in a forever way. In an _I’m in love with you_ way, as opposed to an _I love you_ way. It’s horrible to know how she feels when I get a boyfriend. I try to use suppressants as much as possible, but you know how they are.”

It’s one of Sidney’s worst fears, being found out by Geno and having that conversation; the one where Geno looks at Sidney with those brown eyes and tells him it’ll never be -- _they’ll_ never be.

“That’s so bad,” he whispers, clutching at the handle.

“Yeah, it really is. It’s only a second tier bond, but it’s enough. I don’t know what I can tell you to make it better, if you love him,” Megan says thickly.

“I don’t…” he starts, but slides down the wall he’s leaning against. His shields are up and Geno’s distracted with Taylor and he tries so hard, so very fucking hard.

“He moved from Russia when he was thirteen. We bonded at a camp in Finland. The doctors say we’re tier three but I’ve read about tier three, and this feels… more.”

“When’s your bond judgement?” she asks.

“I don’t know, probably later this year or something. I don’t think Geno gives a shit right now, he’s pissed at me. The Bond Authority stepped in and traded him to my hockey team.”

“Is that his name, Geno?”

He rubs his face, pinching his fingers at the bridge of his nose.

“Yeah. Evgeni Malkin. My bond pendant has his full name and everything.”

“So does mine. Megan Anne Forbes, Cassidy Jane Richards. June 2nd, 1997. Halifax, Nova Scotia. I stare it every day when I get ready for work.”

“Did she go with you, to Boston?” Sidney asks.

“Yeah. Our bond is mostly physical. We still talk in our heads and stuff but it’s a physical pain when we’re separated. I go a little numb when I take suppressants, but the pharmaceutical companies had better success with physical bonds. She had to come with me, since she refuses to take them. We live together with my boyfriend. He’s so nice.”

“It’s not gonna last, is it?”

“Probably not. The last three left me because of her. They said they couldn’t look at her face every day. She doesn’t hide that she’s in love with me. It’s not all awful, though. Some days it’s really perfect and you forget all the bullshit, which is nice.”

“That does sound nice,” Sidney agrees.

“That’s one thing they never tell you, though. They make it seem like it’s all sunshine and rainbows, and it never is. It’s hard work and struggle… but it’s God’s will, y’know? How can you be mad with that?”

This conversation is hammering home every fear he’s held so tightly to his chest.

“I can’t have that with Geno,” he says.

“You can have something with him. You just need to work out what that is. Go to church, pray some. It helps. Get better suppressants when you go to your judgement, too. The doctors who work for the Authority have access to the best shit. It’ll be okay, Sidney.”

He thanks her, his mind racing.

“Call me sometimes, okay? It’s nice to know someone else has a bond,” she says after a beat, and Sidney chokes out a watery laugh.

 

Geno finds him a while later, still sitting against his wall, the phone between his legs. Taylor’s in his arms, and she’s clutching a ball. Geno’s eyes are cool but he feels worried, pressing against their bond. Sidney nudges back.

“You okay?” Geno grunts, and Sidney nods and stands up, kissing Taylor’s cheek as he walks back downstairs, leaving them both there.

He knows what he needs to do, now. He knew before, but that conversation just confirms it. He can’t be like his cousin with her horrible bond. He won’t put both of them through that.

 

*

 

It doesn’t take long at Truro until some of the guys get fed up with Sidney. In all honesty, he’s surprised it’s taken them that long to circle him in the showers, anger on their faces. He sighs, clutching his towel around his waist and wonders what’ll happen this time.

“Fucking Crosby, swoop in here with your bondmate and think you can just take over,” the ringleader, Denisov, snarls. Sidney frowns.

“I wasn’t--we're not doing that at all,” he protests. Denisov spits at his feet.

He takes a step closer and Sidney presses back against the shower wall, trying to decide if it’ll be worth fighting them off, when Geno appears and removes the decision from him.

It happens in a flash, Sidney can barely keep up. Geno has Denisov up against the wall in less than a heartbeat, fury radiating off him and blasting the last shadows of the suppressants for the day from Sidney’s mind. It’s overwhelming to feel all the emotion coming from him at once, and Denisov and his buddies scamper when Geno lets them go and Sidney manages to wrestle back some control of his mind and the bond.

_Geno, please calm down-- **Evgeni**. It’s okay. I’m fine, you’re fine, just breathe -- please._

Geno turns on him, wounded and emotional, demanding to know why this happens, why Sidney never tells him _this_ happens. Sidney doesn’t have a good enough answer.

“Sid, too young to think like this, God. Not have to, is wrong,” Geno moans, and Sidney can only reach out to squeeze his shoulders. He can feel Geno panicking, can feel the world pressing down on him so tightly, and it’s not the first time he tries to apologise for all the shit he’s brought down on Geno’s head. It probably won’t be the last, either.

He falls a little harder once Geno leaves, undoubtedly to speak with the coach about the team’s extracurricular activities with Sidney in the showers.

He doesn’t need anyone to rescue him, certainly not Geno, who should be dedicating more time to rescuing himself, but… the idea of Geno wanting to, as opposed to having to? It just makes that warmth in his chest burn all the brighter, ache all the deeper.

 

* * *

 

_(almost) fifteen._

Geno gets a girlfriend at some point; a blonde beauty named Jessica, and Sidney hates everything about her the second he realises. She’s shy and pretty, and seems to really like Geno, which throws him into a tailspin. _He’s_ for Geno, and nobody else.

Geno never actually tells Sidney about her, and the reason he finds out is a mistake on Geno’s part. He’s always been less skilled at shielding than Sidney. He doesn’t know if it’s because he’s got something to hide from Geno, or if Geno generally isn’t as good at that stuff -- who knows. As a result, Sidney’s forced to witness, to _feel_ , more of Geno’s relationship with Jessica than he ever wanted.

He’s out at a party while Sidney’s holed up in his room trying to wrap his head around covalent bonds for chemistry. He’s bored and lonely, and wonders when Geno will get home. They’ve got the new Crash Bandicoot racing game at home, and as crap as Sidney is at them, Geno loves them so that’s all they end up playing. Sidney had been invited as well, but chose to stay in and study. Parties are fun and all, but he’s behind in History and wants to work longer on his essay to get a perfect mark.

It’s answered for him when he feels the suppressants slip away and the background noise of Geno’s head filters back in. There’s a shield up, but a shitty one -- Geno really needs to train more -- and sparks of pleasure shoot down Sidney’s spine as he pokes closer.

 _What the fuck are you doing?_ Sidney thinks at him, leaning on the shield. He doesn’t expect for it to come crashing down and be sent staggering completely inside Geno as he orgasms, buried deep in someone -- _Jessica, fuck, so good,_ Geno’s mind supplies.

House music is thumping in the background and Geno’s lips are throbbing from all the kissing. Sidney barely manages to gasp an apology and flees back out the bond, slamming up his own shields.

He’s breathing hard, and he looks down to see his sweatpants tented painfully as he shivers from the aftereffects. Geno’s out there having sex and Sidney’s left in his room, with a boner and a boatload of feelings that his bondmate will never, ever return.

It’s hard not to want to punch the wall as he’s crawling into bed and pushing down his pants, tissue at the ready and the shaky memories of Geno coming into warm wetness at the forefront of his mind.

He swipes at his eyes afterwards, rolling over and going to sleep, the orgasm making him tired. It’s a better alternative than staying awake.

 

*

 

Jessica lasts, for so much longer than Sidney can manage with. He spends most of his days on a tightrope between irrepressible rage when he sees them holding hands or kissing, and complete misery as he pops boners because Geno can’t fucking control himself or the bond. He channels it viciously into hockey, putting up more points than he’s done before, checking harder and scoring more, as if he can’t help it.

(He jerks off viciously at night as well, focussing instead on how great Geno feels when it leaks over, and how good it’d feel if they were doing it _together_.)

Geno doesn’t know why Sidney’s mad. Sidney can’t bring himself to tell him, either, and they don’t talk. Sidney’s bond connection languishes, crying out for Geno -- and he knows his brain betrays him when he goes to sleep, because he wakes up feeling refreshed and happy. Geno’s sleepy mind meanders around his, more often than not cursing having to get up early and wondering what Vera will make for breakfast. Sidney shuts it down quietly, locks Geno out and goes through his own routine for the morning, ignoring every part that wants for Geno.

It comes to a head when they’re getting ready for a trip to Toronto, and Jessica’s in Geno’s room, snuck in after Vera went to bed. Sidney’s trying his hardest to keep his shields up, but he can hear them, the noise floating through the wall, giggles and bumps. It doesn’t help and Sidney’s exhausted and angry and _horny_ , so he thumps on the wall a few times until it stops.

A few minutes later Sidney feels Geno about to knock and flings open his door, furious. Geno’s standing there, his mouth bruised and wet from _her_ and his dick poorly concealed. Sidney grabs him and drags him inside, shutting the door.

“For fuck’s sake, I can’t-- keep it in your goddamned pants or work on your shielding, because I’m sick and fucking tired of having to listen to you and Jessica go at it!” he explodes, and Geno’s jaw drops as his eyes drop to Sidney’s crotch. Sidney’s own erection.

Geno stammers an apology but Sidney’s humiliated himself enough for tonight and gets back into bed, curling into a ball and radiating poison to keep him away. Geno stays for a bit, and Sidney waits until he hears the door shut to coach himself through his breathing.

He’s okay. They’re gonna be okay, Sid will make sure of it.

 

*

 

Sidney watches Geno go down on a bad check, slammed up against the boards by two of his old teammates when they play Valley, and he hobbles off the ice clutching his wrist to his chest. Sidney sees red, losing his shit in an uncharacteristic display, and gets the first fighting minor of his career when he leaps on one of the guys and starts punching. He doesn’t break anything but his knuckles hurt, and he takes a wild hook to the chin.

When he finds Geno in the locker room, he asks if Geno’s okay. Geno nods once, taking in Sidney’s knuckles and the redness of his face, holding ice to his wrist.

“I’m gonna shower and then we’re going home.”

Geno nods again.

Vera’s all over him when they get there, and Geno squawks and pushes them off, heading upstairs to his room with a new ice pack and some painkillers. Sidney follows him in, shrugging off his hoodie and crawling into Geno’s bed once he’s settled.

Geno blinks at him when Sidney gets close enough for their thighs to press together.

“Not think you want this anymore,” Geno mumbles. Sidney’s so fucking tired of being mad and jealous and never getting Geno at all. So, he just pushes them into position, slipping his leg between Geno’s. He wraps his arm around Geno's waist, nose tucked against the back of Geno's neck.

“I was pissed off... just, don’t worry about it. I’m sorry for being an asshole.”

It’s not enough, and Geno deserves the truth, but the truth scares Sidney in a way nothing else does, so that’s all he gives. Geno laces their fingers together with his good hand, resting it on his chest. Sidney hesitates, because maybe he does owe Geno something.

“Just promise me... that no matter what, you won’t leave me. Okay?”

His breath catches in his chest, and he wonders if Geno will finally know, if he’ll realise--

“I’m not... not a competition, Sid. You always come first. Like, I always come first for you, yes?” Geno asks. Sidney lets himself breathe.

“Always,” he huffs against the back of his neck. Leaves his thigh wedged between Geno’s and his arm wrapped around Geno’s waist, their fingers laced together.

Lets himself love a little more.

 

* * *

 

_fifteen._

Geno doesn’t like Jack.

Sidney doesn’t even notice until Jack says something after baseball practise one afternoon. Geno plays soccer, and is amazing at it -- of course -- his team practise taking up the other pitch nearby. Sidney stands there and watches Geno slide into a tackle, cursing vehemently in Russian as he struggles to his feet.

 _Stop swearing so much. One day someone you swear at is gonna understand the filth that’s coming from you,_ Sidney says, laughing as Geno startles and looks around until he spots Sidney. He flips him the bird and jogs off after the ball.

“Your bondmate doesn’t like me,” Jack says from next to him, squinting in the sunlight. Sidney snorts.

“I don’t think so. He’s just competitive. He’s probably still sore you beat him in suicides last week,” he shrugs off, turning to head to the locker rooms. Jack frowns.

“Ever since I met him, Sid, not just last week. He doesn’t like me. He looks at me like I’m--” Jack breaks off, looking embarrassed.

“What?” Sidney asks, stripping out of the practise uniform and dumping it on the wash pile.

“Like I’m trying to replace him or something,” Jack coughs. Sidney laughs in his face.

“He’s never said anything like that to me, and it doesn’t feel like that over the bond. Geno’s shit at hiding things, so I’d know.”

Sidney is forced to consider that Jack’s confession might be a little less paranoid and a little more grounded in reality once he starts to pay attention.

They’re eating dinner in the cafeteria one night, and Sidney’s saved two seats; one for Jack, who has a meeting with their head of residence, and one for Geno, who had to resit a test. Geno comes in with one of his soccer friends, each grabbing a tray and loading it high with food. They come to the table and Geno collapses in the seat next to Sidney, shoving his friend into the spare one before Sidney can protest.

 _I saved that seat for Jack,_ Sidney whines over their bond. There’s other empty seats at the table, but none close enough that Sidney can ask Jack about the latest Pirates game.

 _There’s plenty of seats on the table,_ Geno says, not breaking the frightening speed with at which he’s inhaling of his food, nodding at some story his friend is telling.

 _But--_ Sidney starts. Geno just sends a flare of annoyance at him, so he falls silent. He doesn’t really think about it much more until Jack sits down and Sidney’s leaning halfway across the table to talk to him and Geno’s still giving off irritated vibes. He asks Sidney if he’s coming back to his room to study, but Sidney didn’t have any classes with Jack today so he wants to catch up with him.

 _No, I’ll see you later,_ Sidney says, laughing as Jack pulls a face when Sidney springs up an impassioned defense of the Blue Jays.

 

There’s more, of course. More instances of Geno being covert but unmistakable in his attempts to insert himself between Jack and Sidney somehow. Sidney doesn’t know how to deal with this, or even how to figure out why, not daring to hope there’s something more behind it.

He asks Geno late one night over their bond why he acts like a dick to Jack, but Geno avoids the question and complains about needing sleep. Sidney frowns and tosses and turns for most of the evening, and a lack of sleep is the only excuse he’s got for finally throwing down with the assholes on the baseball team.

The pitcher sends a third ball straight for his head, laughing when Sidney’s forced to almost leap backwards, and he snarls and throws his bat aside, gunning straight for him. Jack’s running out to join him and it’s them against six other guys. It takes the coach pulling him off the dickhead pitcher before he stops punching.

He gets detention for a week and Jack gets suspended, but the look on Geno’s face when they return to the dorms is priceless.

“You did this on purpose,” Geno sighs at him once Jack’s gone.

Sidney’s just smug, all over the bond.

 

* * *

 

_sixteen._

Sidney loses sight of Geno while he’s doing press for Rimouski, and he can’t interrupt the interview and ask the guys where Geno’s gone because that would be the kind of weird that’s tolerated in the rooms but he doesn’t want the journalists writing about. It’s taken ages until they stopped asking about Sidney and Gen. So, he answers the questions and tugs at the edges of the bond, trying to speed up the suppressants fading. They don’t fade enough for Sidney to figure anything out until he’s finished his shower and is pulling on his street clothes.

Tremblay and Hubes come up to him.

“You seen Geno? He took off, he said he was gonna come for steak with us,” Hubes says, looking worried. Sidney frowns. Geno loves steak and he gets along with Hubes best out of almost everyone besides Sidney.

“No, sorry… and the bond is still,” he grimaces as he waves a hand at his head, and they nod.

“Well, when you talk to him, tell him he’s a dick for blowing us off,” Hubes says.

 

Sidney’s halfway back to the house, having called Geno a few times with no reply, when the suppressants finally wear off. Geno doesn’t have shields up but he’s keeping Sidney at bay. It’s pointless, anyway. Sidney can feel the pure and utter misery leaking across.

 _Something’s wrong,_ he thinks and steps down on the gas for the last few minutes, running a red light and going over a curb or two to pull up in front of the house. He takes the stairs two at a time and bangs on Geno’s door.

“Geno, let me in,” he begs, his ear pressed against it.

“Go away,” Geno replies. Sidney can hear his voice, broken and weak. He’s been crying. His voice always sounds the same when he’s been crying, has ever since he was thirteen and coming off a jag after talking to his parents over the phone.

“Please… don’t shut me out, let me in,” he tries again. Geno says nothing, but a wisp of acceptance across the bond is all he needs before he’s barging inside. He crawls on the bed, worming his way into Geno’s arms and presses them together everywhere he can. He’s so scared, not knowing what happened -- Geno’s grandpa? Something with his mom?

Geno answers for him, pushing a memory of an interview with a reporter who says horrible things; about Geno being a stopgap for Sidney, useless in the bond and his hockey because of Sidney. It’s like every nightmare he’s had since they bonded, Geno being hurt because of who Sidney is, of what he can do.

 _You’ve gotta know that isn’t true, none of what he said is true. You’re an amazing hockey player, we’re even better together. We’re Sid and Geno, the two-headed monster, power play destroyers and goal scorers, centers. We’re us._ It’s not nearly everything he needs to say, and Geno shakes, sniffling against Sidney’s head.

_What if he’s right, Sid? What if I’m just a stopgap for you?_

Sidney feels the noise come out from his chest completely unbidden, squeezing closer and wrapping Geno up. Geno’s bigger than him but Sidney’s stronger, and he wants to anchor Geno so desperately right now. He’s furious and will demand Tiffany find that asshole and ban him from the rooms, for a start. He fumbles for something, for anything that will make Geno feel better.

_You’re more than I ever hoped for in a bondmate. You’re... you’re so talented, you’re funny and smart and I’m lucky you’re mine, okay?_

Geno looks confused, like Sidney’s forgotten how to speak English or something.

 _I’m yours?_ he asks, but those big brown eyes Sidney’s been staring into since he was twelve are less hurt than they were seconds ago.

They get there, in the end. It’s not enough but it’ll have to do for now; Geno stops crying and starts smiling, and Sidney feels like he’s done all he can for tonight. It’s then that Geno asks the question he’s been dreading for years. Not as much as another question, but one that hits far closer than he’s prepared to deal with.

“Is this why you haven’t-- why nobody for you?”

Fuck.

“What do you mean, nobody for me?” he asks, hoping if he’ll play dumb that Geno will forget it. Geno doesn’t.

“No girls... no guys, just hockey and school, and us.”

“I’ve got you, and hockey. That’s enough for me,” he chirps, standing up. He’s craving ice cream so he leaves to get bowls for both of them. When he gets the ice cream out he slides behind his shields, just a little, and clutches at the edges of the sink until his fingers turn paper white. He focuses on breathing -- _in, out, in, out_ \-- until his hands stop shaking.

 

*

Their bond is still pink. Sidney just knows what it means, now.

He asked Dr. Henke, their new bond counselor -- who turned bright red when Sidney told her what Dr. Paulson told him, and about the medication he prescribed that turned out to be too low a dosage level. She had his file open on her lap anyway, all the information passed on from Dr. Paulson and their counselors while they were in Kentville and Truro.

“That man should have his license revoked!” she had said, before composing herself and apologising. Sidney had shrugged, looking at the file. It was pretty thick, with sheets tucked between pages, photographs of their faces and their bond pendants. There’s information on Sidney’s hospital stay, their moves around the country and psychological profiles -- everything. He shuddered to think what would happen if the media ever got a hold of it.

“The bond… our bond, it’s been pink ever since we won the league. Why is that? I can’t find anything online,” Sidney had asked, his sneakers digging into the carpet. Dr. Henke smiled.

“I know your counselors said your bond was non-romantic, but has something changed, Sidney? Geno’s made no mention of your bond becoming coloured,” she said softly. Sidney gnawed at his bottom lip. Geno’s more of an open book than Sidney in almost all aspects of their lives, except when it comes to their bond. He shuts down on questions hard and fast, while Sidney’s more willing to talk. Considering how deeply personal and private it is, it makes no sense. Maybe because he’s been trained from an early age to talk about the bond and how it is, to check on its health, on _their_ health. He’s got no answers.

“Nothing’s changed. It’s just… like, pinkish all the time now. When we talk to each other, or think stuff… it’s not really noticeable, but it’s there.”

“Okay. Well, sometimes when a bond changes, it picks a colour to represent the change of the bond. You’ve probably noticed when one of you is sad, the bond gets a little darker, right?”

Sidney had nodded.

“Well, it works the other way, too. If you start to develop certain feelings, the bond might go pink, or a soft red. Do you understand what I’m saying, Sidney?”

_Shit._

“Sidney? Are you okay?”

“Has Geno asked about the colour?” he asked. He felt desperate, his palms sweating and his heart racing.

“No, he hasn’t. I’m guessing this is something you’d hoped to keep from him for a while longer,” she’d said, a sad smile on her face.

“Please don’t tell him what it means. Tell him to Google it, or something. Just  _please don’t tell him_. I’m begging you.”

“Oh, Sidney. I can’t do that.”

“ _Please_. Just tell him to talk to me about it, then. Just, God, don’t tell him. Please don’t tell him, I can’t lose him if he doesn’t want me back. My cousin, she-- I can’t have that bond.”

He can’t lose what he’s got with Geno, so fragile but so perfectly crafted after years of hiding and shielding and keeping each other at arm’s length.

She hadn’t promised, but she said she’d tell Geno to talk to Sidney, and there had been nothing so far. Geno doesn’t ask him why their bond is seemingly permanently coloured, and Sidney wakes up every morning and falls asleep every night with a pink tinge to his mind.

 

* * *

 

_seventeen._

Geno’s been drafted to the Penguins. Sidney lost his fucking mind when his name was called out, almost like it was his own name being called (it is, sort of).

They celebrate hard that night; Geno’s hammered and Sidney had been pacing himself at the start, but the bond is drunk and all he can feel is Geno -- Geno’s happiness, his emotions, all blown wide and clear and nothing shielded between them. He ends up getting blitzed off champagne and some gross tasting shots Ovechkin had shoved at him.

“You need to drink like Russians, since your Zhenya keeps you forever,” he had said, patting a sloppy hand against Sidney’s chest.

He supposes it’s the closest thing he’ll get to approval from Ovechkin. He still remembers the first time they met in Finland, on the ice and frozen to the core, and when they were leaving Finland and how Ovechkin had yelled at him to be gentle with Zhenya. It was a weird thing to say at the time, but looking back he understands, more now than he ever did.

When he wakes up the next morning, less hungover than he thought he’d be, it’s to an empty bed. Ovechkin and Green are snoring in the double next to him. He can hear Geno moving around in the lounge and stumbles out, rubbing his eyes and yawning. He’s only in his boxers, and can’t remember getting undressed or into bed. Geno’s perfectly capable of getting him there. It makes him flush at the thought, the bond resonating with his embarrassed happiness.

Geno’s standing at the buffet, piling his plate on with egg and sausage, and Sidney wanders over and lets Geno pull him in. It feels normal, _natural_ to kiss his bare shoulder and smile up at him, probably still a little drunk. Geno just smiles back and passes the plate to him, pushing him gently towards the table nearby.

They eat slowly and Sidney sighs, rubbing his stomach and wondering if he can convince Geno to lie in bed for the rest of the morning, when Geno clears his throat.

“Why is the bond pink?”

Sidney’s caught off-guard, not expecting Geno to ask now, of all times.

“Uh…” is all he can come up with, watching Geno reach his hand across the table. Sidney feels Geno thinking, not realising or not able to shield at this point, about how much he likes Sidney. It doesn’t feel like the _like_ of a non-romantic bond, not at all. He watches as Geno goes to pull his hand back, embarrassed, but he lurches forward, lacing their fingers together. This is the moment he’s been waiting for, for so fucking long.

“I like you too, I mean-- it’s. Uh…”

Geno reels him in, and Sidney barely has time to acknowledge that it’s happening when Geno kisses him, not chaste or boring but _deep_ and fuck, it’s like every kiss he’s imagined when they’ve been apart, too scared to think of it when Geno’s been within bond distance.

“Geno, fuck,” he moans, crawling into Geno’s lap and sucking kisses along his neck.

“Sid, you-- shit, I--” Geno tries, but Sidney’s not having a bar of it and kisses him, returns to the mouth that’s been teasing him for over half a decade. It’s been so long.

The bond is exploding inside his head, a deep red that makes Sidney think of the red of Geno’s Team Russia jersey that’s hanging in his closet -- taken out to sleep in when his aching for Geno reaches an impossible pitch -- and Geno’s sleep warm body underneath his is like… it’s like coming home.

They fuck once Ovechkin and Green leave. Sidney lies there after, slick and messed up, leaking with Geno’s come while Geno heads into the bathroom for a towel. He cleans Sidney up and pulls him out of the wet patch, pressing kisses into his hair while their breathing calms before they start all over again.

The bond is peaceful, a stark contrast to how it was earlier, and Sidney wonders how the fuck this is going to work going forward. How is he ever going to be able to shield from Geno? How they can ever make it together in a locker room, without Sidney wanting to push Geno to his knees. Not everyone likes bonded pairs, let alone gay ones. Everything’s so fragile.

 _We’re gonna make this work, Sid,_ Geno says.

Sidney wriggles around, resting his hand on Geno’s bare hip. _I know,_ Sidney says, turning in his arms and demanding Geno hug him tighter.

Geno chuckles. _Bossy,_ he says, but gives Sidney the kiss he wants when he looks up, pouting a little. Sidney shrugs and presses his face against Geno’s chest, cheeks flushing. This is one thing he’ll gladly be bossy about. He’s just so fucking glad he even gets this-- gets to demand this from Geno, after years of thinking they’d never be like this.

 _Okay?_ Geno asks, and Sidney sighs and nods.

 _Just feeling how you’re feeling,_ Sidney says.

Geno huffs against the top of his head. _You’re always doing that, you know. I didn’t realise until later, but you’ve always been so careful around me with this stuff._

Sidney flushes, a little embarrassed.

_Alex told me to be gentle with you, when we left Finland. I wanted to make sure I was…. gentle, I mean. It was hard at the start but I think I did well?_

Geno looks like he’s been punched, so Sidney rubs a hand along his arm, trying to soothe him.

_He told you to be gentle? Why?_

Sidney shrugs and rolls his hips, relishing the twinges and aches.

_Because you were broken. We were made to be together, but it didn’t mean that it was going to happen straight away. I needed to know that. I’m just glad we got here, and I’m allowed to be like this-- that we can be like this._

_Oh, Sid,_ Geno sighs and kisses him, slow and perfect. Sidney sinks into the feeling, sinks into Geno all around him and inside him. He’ll never want anyone else for as long as he lives.

 

* * *

 

_eighteen._

They’re in Russia and it’s been a month since he was -- since they _both were_ \-- drafted to the Penguins. They’re in Moscow; they went halves on buying an apartment there, wanting to be in the capital for their training with Alex and whoever else joined them.

Sidney’s been waiting for the right time to bring it up, not sure how to handle it best; not wanting to fuck things up. Geno gets sulky because Sidney’s distracted, so he snaps and lashes out. Sidney’s still wrapped up in his own world to notice Evgeni’s outbursts, but Alex does.

“Lovebirds fighting already?” he coos as Sidney climbs off the bike and wipes his face off with his towel.

“Huh?” Sidney asks. He’s used to Geno’s accent, Geno’s family’s accent, and the Moscow way of speaking is different-- he needs to concentrate harder to get everything.

“Zhenya’s worried about something. What’s going on?” Alex asks, slinging an arm around him. Sidney elbows him off and glares.

“Nothing’s wrong! Everything’s perfect,” he squawks, and looks over at Geno… who’s going to town on the punching bag. His back is tense and his jaw is set, and okay, maybe it’s not perfect.

“Oops,” he says. Alex rolls his eyes and mutters something under his breath, throwing his hands up as he walks away.

 

That night, Sidney sits on the edge of the bed and watches Geno pull on his boxers.

“Geno,” he starts. Geno looks over his shoulder.

“Come sit. We should talk.” Sidney can feel Geno’s anxiety flare through the bond, like it was his own, and he stammers out, “It’s not bad!” trying to tamp down on his own. Geno looks wary but sits down, propping his chin on his palm and waiting.

 _I heard you, you know,_ Sidney decides to start with.

 _Heard me what?_ Geno’s confused, and their bond is open-- more open than it’s been the past few weeks, while Sidney’s been distracted and Geno’s apparently been suffering.

_At the draft. I heard what you were thinking… about marriage, and babies._

Geno’s face drops and he hides his face, hunched over. _So stupid,_ he mutters and Sidney grins, leaning over to press a kiss on his shoulder.

_I don’t mind, Geno. I think it’s… really fucking early to be thinking about either of those things, but I like it._

_Why’ve you been so weird since we got to Russia, then?_ Geno looks petulant, and Sidney tugs him back into the bed, until Sidney’s lying on his back and Geno is spread across him, his head pillowed in the space between Sidney’s neck and shoulder. Geno’s mouth moves across his neck, and Sidney bites his lip.

 _I’ve been thinking about it myself, working things through. You know how I get sometimes._ Sidney’s apologetic about it, and it’s been too long for Geno to get upset over the dumb things he does, so he doesn’t -- just sighs and kisses Sidney’s neck with a little more bite than they’re used to.

_Why didn’t you say something? I’ve been going crazy these past few weeks!_

Sidney shrugs and runs a palm down the flat of Geno’s back, skimming his fingers along the muscle and bone, spread out under planes of skin.

_Because… I don’t know. I just, I wanted to say that I want it all too, Geno. I want the wedding, I want kids running around and driving us crazy. After we’ve won a few Cups, though._

Geno barks out a laugh but nods, lifting his head up to kiss Sidney, sucking on his lip.

“You’re the most crazy, Sidney Crosby,” he says ruefully. Sidney licks his mouth, tasting Geno.

“Too bad I’m perfect for you, then.”

Evgeni bends down to kiss him again, pulling back to make a face.

“Yeah. Too bad I’m perfect for you, too.”


End file.
